


Ghosts

by aurora_dawn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, POV Luke, Past Relationship(s), Rey Skywalker, this is my first work so please let me know what you think, yes this is skysolo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 16:08:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6760864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurora_dawn/pseuds/aurora_dawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But the will of the Force was not his to control, and never had been.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfiction for anything in the Star Wars fandom, so I hope you enjoy. This is basically a way for me to fix (but not really?) everything I felt for The Force Awakens. Because this is my first work, comments would be wonderful!  
> Special thanks to Rie (Val_Creative) for cheering me on while I wrote this!

His morning started out like any other. 

After a night of restless, empty dreams, he woke to the grey stone of his small hut. Built into the rocky island by practically his bare hands, it was cold and dull. It was good enough for what he needed, however. He did not deserve much better. 

It was always the ocean that woke him. In the night the sound of it would fade into the back of his consciousness, but the force of a wave hitting the island would jar him awake unpleasantly. He ate very little. He ate as much was needed to keep him alive. Perhaps less. 

He was healing. 

He had felt Han’s death like a knife ripping through him. He could feel it as if the blade that had pierced Han had pierced him as well. He had fallen to the ground in its wake, and clutched at the grass until dirt came up. He could see him; he saw Kylo Ren staring into Han’s eyes, he saw him push him off the bridge and Han was falling. He saw Han, much older than when they had last seen each other. He looked frozen, and his mouth had been slack. Han’s eyes were glazed over, and Luke had felt the familiar grip of death rip Han away from him for good. There was nothing he could do. He willed the Force to have Han know that he was there. He had wanted to comfort him, to hold him. 

He had wanted to kiss him. 

He loved him still, as much as the day they had met, and as much as the day they had lost everything. He hoped Han knew. The memory of Han’s death made him shudder. There was a power in the room he hadn't felt in years. Who were these people, these children that the Force had thrust itself upon? They didn't deserve that, not in this age. Luke would rather face every age of this world alone with his burden than see others hold the weight of the Force on their shoulders. But the will of the Force was not his to control, and never had been. 

He moves as slowly as the dawn. The sun this planet orbited was further away than he was used to, and the sky was a muted grey. The remnants of the temple that used to stand and be worshipped by generations of Jedi before him were scattered around his small home. The Force was ingrained in this island. It seeped in the very earth and in the wind and the sky. He hid himself here so that his old padawan could not find him in its intensity. It had worked, for now. Han’s death had marked a shift for him. Everything was coming to a standstill that rested on his shoulders. The galaxy was resting and waiting for him once again, and he was used to its weight. He knew this time he wouldn't have to face it alone. Who he would face it with, he was still uncertain of. 

He meditated most hours of the day. He tried to forget his pain and his grief and soak himself entirely in the light that was the Force. Memories would prick at the edge of his consciousness, now more than ever. Especially of Han, when he was the cocky hotshot pilot his young self had fallen head over heels for. It made him smile, and then it made him cry. He stood up today, and found that meditation was useless. He walked instead. 

He found the shelf in the farthest corner in his home. It was the shelf he allowed himself to rest his past on. His lightsaber sat there, covered in dust. Despite years of disuse, he could sense the weapon’s eagerness. It did not age as he did, and it did not know pain as he did. All it knew was its purpose, and it was lucky for that. There were a few other keepsakes, but none burned as brightly in his mind as the doll that sat there. He allowed himself to pick it up, and turn it in his hand. It was a simple enough doll. Han had traded spare parts for it on some backwater planet. It was the only thing he had of her anymore. He set the doll down quickly. He couldn't think about her now. Not so soon after Han’s death. He sat back on the grass outside, and meditated. 

Something changed. 

He felt the air around shift, felt his heart beat faster in his chest. It felt like the island had moved underneath him, and nothing had done that in all his years here. There had been inklings lately, and he had felt himself be pulled back toward the Resistance, and Kylo Ren, and Leia. His sister, too good for the life she had had to endure. She longed for him, he could sense it, but he couldn't bring himself to return. It would only result in more death and grief, be it for him or Leia. As he reached for his twin now, he found a sense of peace within her. A weight had lifted off of her shoulders. As he opened his eyes again, something entered the planet’s atmosphere. 

He recognized her immediately. The Falcon had been the ship that had started him on his path to become a Jedi, to seek a greater life of himself than that of farmer on Tatooine. She had been the ship he had fallen in love on. He breathed, and tried not to think too much of Han, but if Han was dead, then who was flying her. Deep in his heart he felt the answer, but he shoved it away. 

She touched down far from him. 

He stood out in the open plain in front of his home. It felt as if he were in the middle of a storm. The Force was boiling with energy. It was the same energy he had felt when he had faced Darth Vader for the first time, and learned that the man he feared some much was his father. He felt nauseous and nervous. He knew something was to happen, but his senses were too overwhelmed to make a clear thought. He turned away, toward the ocean, as the stranger approached him. Here was the standstill he had known was to come, and yet he was still unprepared for it. He took a breath and willed himself to focus. He listened to his heartbeat and own breathing to distract himself as the galaxy waited with bated breath to see what was to happen in these next few moments.

Then, all of a sudden, everything stopped. 

The stranger was here, he knew it. But he knew that this person really was no stranger to him. He recognized the power that radiated from them, a light so bright it blinded him. He felt tears prickled his eyes. That blindness was so familiar. He heard the person breathe, and he felt new air enter him. He found the courage to turn and look, but did not see the person he knew was standing behind on the grassy field. 

He saw himself, clutching a screaming newborn in his hands. He had been so happy, and he had been blinded by her light. He had been crying when he held her for the first time. Han had been too. They all were. He saw himself brush her hair from her forehead, and he saw Luke kiss the child’s forehead. He saw himself speak, but he could not hear. 

He saw himself rocking his baby, near her crib. It was dark aboard the Falcon, and not exactly the best place for a nursery, but it had been the perfect place for his daughter. Her breath evened out, and it was damp and warm against his chest. He looked down at her chubby cheeks and soft brown hair, and his heart had been so overwhelmed with love. 

He saw Han holding her up by her arms as she did her best to walk. He cheered when she walked to him without Han’s help, and had swept her up in his arms and kissed her forehead and cheeks. She had smiled so brightly. 

He remembered her screaming the day Kylo Ren attacked, the day he killed every one of the padawans and the younglings. She’d seen it all with her own eyes, and she’d been so young. He ran with her in his arms, and her tears made his shirt wet. He thrust his baby into Han’s hands, screaming at him that he to go, he had to leave now, because Kylo Ren was coming, Kylo was going to kill her. Rey had kicked against Han’s hold and clawed at Luke’s chest. She had gripped his shirt so tightly as Han pulled her into the ship. He stood breathless as she screamed at him no, don’t go, daddy, please don’t go!

That had been the day he had died. He’d been a ghost ever since. 

There was no denying whether or not it was Rey. It simply was. She was grown now, and so much older than when he last saw her. She carried herself as a woman, and the strength she had radiated off of her. He couldn't help but be proud, although he knew her strength came from her need to survive. She wore a grey vest he knew belonged to the resistance, and Han’s blaster was strapped to her leg in a holster. She looked so similar to Han it frightened him. Her brown hair was the same as it had been the day he lost her. She looked afraid, or at least nervous. With trembling fingers, Rey reached into the pouch at her side to pull out more of his past. His father’s lightsaber rested comfortably in his daughter's hand, and it hummed with energy. She reached it out for him to take. He’d seen enough of that sword, but he knew it wasn't about returning the sword to him. He took a moment to look at his daughter. She would not be so nervous if she didn't know who he was, but she could not of known of their true relationship. He knew legends about him had been spread around the galaxy. 

He didn't want that for Rey. He never did. 

When she was a baby, he could sense that the Force was strong with her. She came from a line of pure force energy. The Force thrust itself on his family and has caused turmoil, pain, and loss that had only given the Force more strength. He had led Rey away from the temple and away from the padawans and his teachings. Luke never wanted to see his daughter through the same pain he had suffered as a Jedi. He supposed it was useless now. 

He reached out to her. The Force felt unsure in his old fingers from years of disuse. He pulled the lightsaber from Rey’s hand and into his own. It felt familiar in his grip, and his hand ached at the memory of losing the lightsaber he now held. He walked up to Rey now, and put it back in her hand. He doesn't know what to say. What can he say?

She spoke first. “You're Luke Skywalker?”

“Yes,” he answered. 

Rey opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again. She, too, seemed at a loss for words.

“You must have found the map,” Luke said. 

“Yes.” She nodded quickly. 

So much silence. He hadn't seen his daughter in years and he couldn't think of what to say. 

“I come here,” Rey paused, and took a breath, “to seek your teaching.”  
How did she not remember?

“Are you sure? You have seen the life a Jedi leads.” Luke said solemnly. 

She looked down at the ground in thought. 

“I have discovered a power in me...I don't understand. You're the only one who does. I have to know what it means,” She looked up at him with eyes that he knew so well, “Will you help me?” 

Anything, he had wanted to say. 

Instead he said, “If you're going to be my student, you’ll have to start calling me Master Skywalker.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!  
> If you're wondering how exactly Rey is both Luke and Han's daughter, its up to you. If you want it to be mpreg or trans!Luke or anything, I didn't write it with a specific explanation in mind.  
> Comments would be very much appreciated!  
> My tumblr, if you want to check me out, is @lukeskywalkersdaughter


End file.
